


The boy on the moon

by Hazelnutsokay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Multi, The Marauder's Map
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazelnutsokay/pseuds/Hazelnutsokay
Summary: The story of a boy named Remus.(This is a wolfstar fic, but it starts in year one so get ready for build-up) ;)
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 5





	1. A Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> CW- Mention of themes that could be associated with abuse  
> Mild emetophobia TW towards the end

Chapter 1

Remus lay on his back and stared at the ceiling above. He sometimes imagined those little swirly patterns were waves, and that he was adrift somewhere at sea; perhaps floating on a scrap of wood. Though the soft pillow beneath his head obscured the dream.  
People usually associate the comfort of a bed with safety and sleep, but Remus seemed to do more sweating in his than anything else these days. It was a miracle if he managed to get more than an hour or two of shuteye, and even then he tossed and turned so much he often found himself wrapped so tightly in his blanket he could no longer move his arms. It wasn’t as if anything has changed. Sure, his father looked a little rougher, but Remus didn’t expect anything different from a widowed man who had spent nearly six years locked away with his son.

It was at night that Remus blamed himself for what had happened. When he was little, he didn’t have much of a concept of empathy, so didn’t quite understand the toll he had taken on the life of his poor, albeit small, family. When he was six or seven, he’d have stories read to him before bed and would drop off as knights and dragons and elves danced behind his eyelids. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact day that it stopped, but he was sure it was not long after his tenth birthday that his father complained of exhausting all of the books they owned far too many a time. He no longer asked for a bedtime story after that.  
It must have been no later than 4pm, for the light that trickled though the gaps in Remus’ curtains dampened his room in puddles of golden. This was the time of day Remus loathed almost as much as the witching hour. His body had begun to rid itself of insomniac’s adrenaline leaving him limp, though to close his heavy eyes would be to relive the horrors of night. At least the full moon isn’t for another week, he thought to himself; only then did he take exhaustion for granted. He’d rather be tired than ripping his skin to shreds. It had been that way since he was five. His father never told him exactly what happened, but whatever it was, it wasn’t planned.  
The few phone calls Remus remembered, the ones on the night of his first transformation, had told him very little. Very little is what he went on. Somewhere in the tears he made out the word ‘Grey’, but didn’t quite see the use in that. What he did pick out was that he wasn’t quite right any more. People would be terrified of him. His father had lost his job and they were to live on the small amount of inheritance they did have, with Remus far, far from any child he could hurt.  
When he heard the familiar creek of the bottom step he pulled himself up so that he could prepare himself for whenever his father was to enter. He was in no way afraid of Lyall (at least he supposed), but the guilt that clumped in his throat at the sight of his father’s sunken dark eyes and downturned lips made him feel ill. Remus struggled to remember the last time he saw his father smile for real. It was probably back when Remus was to little to cause any real damage to himself or, well, anything in reach. He’d happily rattle about in a large dog cage for a few hours until sunrise, after which he’s be given a slab of chocolate- a treat- and a bath with bubbles. He supposed he was happy then, too.  
There was a second creek not long after the first. 

A gentle knock.

“It may be best if I speak to him, Mr Lupin,” a voice said.

It wasn’t his father’s. 

Remus pulled his knees up to his chest. He hadn’t heard another voice since he was five, besides the shrill cry of foxes and owls late in the night. The voice was soft, but my no means patronising, and very much unlike the deep croak that Lyall produced.  
There was a short pause before the door opened. It squeaked on its hinges, creating a fanfare to greet the man with a great white beard as he entered the room. He looked more like a character from one of Remus’ old story books than any human being. He had a neatly pointed hat atop his head and rich purple robes dotted in silver embellishments all the way down to his toes. Remus thought he must be some sort of king. But what would a king be doing in his house?

He peeked at the Remus over his half-moon spectacles and smiled gently, “good afternoon. You must be Remus? Am I correct?”

Remus looked over to his father, who was now to one side of the mysterious bearded man. He gave Remus a nod.  
Remus mimicked his father’s movements.

“Lovely to meet you Remus, I am Albus Dumbledore, but you shall call me Professor. May I sit?”

The man gestured towards Remus’ bed. He nodded again.  
Dumbledore sat. He continued to speak, “I am the headmaster of a school called Hogwarts, have you heard of Hogwarts.”

Remus shook his head this time. He tugged his shirtsleeves over his hands and began to chew at the seams, still confused as to why- after so many years- he had his first visitor. 

“Hogwarts is a school of magic,” he said, “a school for wizards, just like you.”

Remus stopped chewing. He supposed his father had used magic years ago. He used to make things float around the room to make him giggle. He’d point that funny, knobbly stick around and things would happen that Remus couldn’t explain by any logical means. He used to imagine Lyall as one of the characters in his stories, perhaps as a warlock, or Aslan having escaped from Narnia. Remus used to grab a small branch from the garden and point it around in response. Nothing ever happened of course, so once his father’s magic had stopped, so did his imagination. Sometimes he convinced himself that the magic was all something his brain had used to fill in the blanks, but he didn’t think he had enough creativity to invent some of the spells he had seen as a boy. 

“He won’t remember magic,” Lyall croaked, “I lost mine a long time ago.”

Dumbledore smiled, “not to worry, young man, I’m sure you’ll pick it up soon enough when you come to Hogwarts next month.”

Remus’ eyes widened. He looked to his father for reassurance, and was met with a very faint ‘yes’.  
When Remus looked back at Dumbledore, he had a stick in his hand. It was similar to the one he had seen his father with, though this one was lined with knots that gave it the appearance of one very long, skeletal finger.  
“Expecto patronum.”

His voice was so quiet Remus could hardly hear. What looked like pale blue lace shot out of the end of his wand and swirled around Remus’ room. It was a few seconds before he could make out a shape, something like a bird, floating in the mist. Remus dropped his knees and watched as the bird-thing disappeared back into the wand.

“With a few years training you will be able to do that,” Dumbledore said, placing the wand back in an inside pocket of his robes, “of course you will need supplies, first. A good friend of mine has agreed to take you to a place called Diagon Alley to get you some supplies next week. Is that okay with you?”

Remus nodded. He thought for a moment.  
‘Money’. He moved his lips, but no more than the sound of his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth could be heard.

“Hogwarts has a bursary scheme to help out any students who need supplies, all you need to do is make sure you’re ready next Thursday morning to be picked up. Oh, almost forgot.”

Dumbledore reached into a second pocket, although Remus guessed there were many more tucked away in there somewhere, and pulled out a neat envelope stamped in deep red ink.

‘Remus John Lupin’

***********

On the Thursday morning Remus didn’t waste any time watching the waves. He lifted himself off the bed as fast as his aches could carry him. The full moon had been two days before, so his muscles still throbbed with every movement. Occasionally he admitted to enjoying the few days that followed; he could sleep without disturbance at least. His body needed to heal, and all intrusive thoughts were stacked away for the next week. 

The shower was cold- they didn’t have hot water at the end of the month- but it soothed the tender-healed cuts across his chest. Month to month he attacked a new part of his body. It was a surprise, as he grew, that there was any untouched skin left. He dried and threw on the best clothes he had; an oversized green jumper, one that had belonged to his father some years before, and a pair of jeans that cuffed just slightly too high on his legs. He’d never had much need for clothes, for he was only ever allowed out into his garden and- when lucky- his father would take him on a walk around the forest that backed onto their house. They went less and less since Lyall lost his magic. Remus wasn’t exactly sure what magic would be needed in a forest. Some of the stories he’d been told spoke of men with the bodies of horses, and giants as tall as skyscrapers (whatever those were), but he was sure he would have noticed something of the sort looming outside his bedroom window. Regardless, he pulled on a pair of boots still iced in year-old mud and wandered down the stairs.

Lyall was in the kitchen with a mug of steaming liquid in hand. He drank a lot of that. It would make him chirpier, at least for a bit, until he took himself to the living room to fall asleep in front of the fizzling television set. Now and again Remus would watch whatever was on, but the signal was never good enough that far into the middle of nowhere for any coherent sound to be made. Once he thought he heard the very first thirty seconds of a song, but that was likely his brain tricking him into stimulation.  
“Good morning, Remus,” his father said, “Excited for your big day out?”

Remus nodded as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.  
“You may be a bit hot in that jumper.”

Remus admitted he was feeling a little overheated, but it covered his scars that way. If his father had locked him away for this long, there was no use in showing his scars to the entire world. Besides, people would ask questions, wouldn’t they? 

“You’re going to have to speak some time,” Lyall continued, “especially at that new school. You won't make any friends, otherwise.”

Remus tapped the toes of his boots together, leaving speckles of dry mud on the tiles below. He'd never had a friend. He was too little before they moved, and far too shy, so had never been given the chance. He supposed it would be nice to have one, but he didn't know anything different than being alone with his father. Lyall sighed, 

“It’s a new start, Remus. Don’t take it for granted.”

Remus was glad when there was a knock on the door. Well, more of a thud than a knock. The house shook a little, but only Remus seemed to be phased. He followed his father through the corridor and to the door, where all light that once shone through the window was obscured by a single large shadow. It looked as if a great boulder had been rolled in front of the sun.  
When it was opened, Remus couldn’t help but take a step back. There was a giant (perhaps not how large he had imaged a skyscraper to be but giant nonetheless) on his front doorstep.

“Lyall,” he said with an enthusiasm Remus hadn’t heard since his toddler years, “long time no see.”

Remus couldn’t pin point his accent, though it reminded him of one his father had once used when he read stories. He had a round, yet jovial face and was growing in a fluffy beard. His hair was not long, but was not short, and created the illusion of a dark cloud around his head. His clothes were almost as tattered as Remus’, but fit him just right.

“Rubeus,” Lyall said, “thank you so much for coming to take Remus, I couldn’t possibly go myself I-“

“Not to worry, I’m looking forward to mee’in the young lad.”

Remus had chewed a hole in the sleeve of his jumper. When Hagrid looked his way he pulled it back over his hands to return the wave.

“Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?” Lyall asked.

Hagrid pulled out what looked to be a pocket watch, “I think it’s best we’d be off. I don’t want to keep your young man past dusk.”

“No worries. Thanks again, Rubeus.”

His father placed his hand behind Remus’ shoulder and gently ushered him out of the door. When he looked back, his father only smiled weakly. So weakly Remus was concerned that he didn’t mean it at all. He didn’t turn back to Hagrid until the door was firmly shut behind them.

“Dumbledore has told me all about ye', Remus,” he said, “I’m Rubeus Hagrid, an old friend of your dad’s, I s'pose. Either name is fine, I won’t be teaching ye like Dumbledore.”

Remus nodded. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. When Dumbledore said he was being picked up he expected another man in poncy robes, but he was unsure as to whether he liked the reality more or not.  
Hagrid walked him a minute or two down the road. When they stopped, the road was just as barren as it had always been and Remus worried for a second that they had lost their ride.

“We’ll be taking the Knight Bus, of course,” Hagrid explained. 

Remus didn’t know what that was but didn’t really get a chance to speculate, for a purple bus, three storeys high, appeared just inches from the tip of his nose quicker than the words had even been processed.  
“Rubeus Hagrid?” a man said, peering out of the open doorway, “what did we say about using the knight bus? We ‘ave to extend the bottom floor.”

“I have a guest, Lenny,” Hagrid explained, gesturing towards Remus, who looked and frankly felt rather insignificant between both the giant and the bus.  
“And who are you?” Lenny asked, his eyebrows furrowed.  
There was a pause.  
“This is Remus Lupin, we’re off to Diagon Alley to get him some supplies for school.”

Lenny squinted his eyes at Remus, “Lyall Lupin’s boy?”

Remus nodded.  
“Merlin, I thought that guy disappeared off the face of the earth six years ago. Come on, Mr Lupin, let’s get you to Diagon alley.”

The ride was bumpy, to say the least, and when Remus stepped off the bus he felt fit to be sick. If the bumpy journey wasn’t bad enough, Lenny’s breath (which smelt more like mouldy onion soup than breath) was puffing in his face the entire journey. Remus lived in Dorset somewhere, he thought, so London didn’t seem too far away. He knew his parents used to live there before he was born. That’s where his dad met his mum. She must have died within a year of his birth, for all he had of her was a small photograph on his nightstand. He had hazel eyes, like his, and his funny ears- one stuck out a little more than the other. She was beautiful, he thought. She looked happy.  
Hagrid led Remus into an old pub that looked like it should probably be shut. The windows were boarded up with scraps of wood at funny angles, and the sign on the door was falling so far off its hinges that Hagrid had to lift it up to get the two of them inside.  
Despite the rather sloppy exterior, the pub Remus had read as ‘The Leaky Cauldron’ was bustling. The clink of glasses could be heard from every corner as groups of merry witches and wizards (they were all dressed in robes, which seemed like a wizard thing anyway) chatted away. The smell of onion that had lingered in Remus’ nose was replaced with the warm aroma of chips and steaming pies. His stomach gave a churn.  
“Aren’t you busy for a Thursday lunchtime?” Hagrid said once the two of them reached the bar.  
The man behind the bar turned to reveal a wrinkled face, reddened from the heat of the fire that flickered towards the back of the room. He smiled,  
“Hagrid, I feel like I haven’t seen you in donkey’s years. It’s Chudley Canons ‘vee Wimborne Wasps this afternoon. Everyone’s flocked to ‘ear the radio.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of work for me old man Dumbledore of late. Not much time to catch up with people you see.”

“He has you working day and night, does he? Ah, well you’re here now. The usual?”

“Would love to, Tom, but I’m here to take young Remus to get his school supplies.”

The man who he now knew to be Tom peered over the bar at Remus, who had stretched the hole in his sleeve by another inch or two.  
“Starting ‘ogwarts are we? So’s my little niece, over there. Rosmerta”  
Remus followed Tom’s finger to a table by the fire. There was a girl there with wild blond ringlets. She had a glass of what looked like beer (surely not, at eleven) in one hand and was playing a game of chess.  
“She’s as excited as ever. Her old lass is a squib so we didn’t know if she’d ‘ave it in her. She’s quite the witch, really. Perhaps you’ll see ‘er there?”

As Remus and Hagrid left the pub through a second door, Remus couldn’t help but watch as the chess pieces opposite Rosmerta moved on their own accord.  
“Right,” Hagrid said.  
Remus’ attention averted back to the giant, who now had a pink umbrella at his side. The umbrella was half as tall as Remus, but fit perfectly in Hagrid’s hands like an extension of his arm. He held the tip of the umbrella against a brick wall.  
“Watch me very closely, Remus. You will need this in future.”

Remus watched carefully as Hagrid tapped the bricks. From the rubbish bin, three up, two across. That’s when the wall began to contort.


	2. Chapter 2- Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- no particular warnings for this chapter

Remus could see at once why the street was called Diagon Alley. It had cobbled paths that twisted and bent so frequently it was difficult to make out what was at the other end. While the path was narrow, three or four people dressed in smooth, black cloaks managed to squeeze between the shops at any one time, shoulder-to-shoulder and carrying bags larger than a small child. Some people’s bags appeared to be floating in the air just behind them. Remus thought this was brilliant.  
He followed Hagrid’s long strides- two footsteps of his own to each. Hagrid was so large that he parted the crowds like some sort of rugged Moses, letting Remus take in each and every shop front. Some were wonky and leaned so far that Remus was afraid they’d crumble on top of him, but he was certain that if it was possible for floating shopping bags, it must have been possible to hold up a building. Some had great puffs of smoke billowing from open windows, some were laden with leather-bound books, others owls and one in particular had what looked to be a broom- the kind you use to sweep the floor- displayed in the window like a new and exciting invention.  
“We’ll be getting ye a wand first, of course,” Hagrid said, bringing Remus’ attention back from the kids who had their faces pressed up against the glass that encased the broom, “sure experienced wizards can work without a wand, but an eleven-year-old would be about as useless as a road is to a car.”

Remus struggled to think why a road would ever be useless to a car. 

The two of them stopped outside a shop with clouded windows. It wasn’t nearly as lavish as some of the other buildings on the street. Remus craned his head to read the sign above which read ‘Ollivanders- Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC’. That seemed awfully early to Remus, whose knowledge of the world only went as far back as 1963. By the looks of the place, he wouldn’t be surprised if the shop itself had been there since 382BC. The cracked paint on the walls reminded him of his own house. Inside was no different, and Remus was surprised to be met with a room full of nothing but rows upon rows of long, brownish boxes. When he had pictured a wand shop in his mind some minutes ago, he had imaged a room- as deep as a cave- full of beautiful wands in red plush cases; something like the crown jewels. Clearly the very thing that gave a wizard their magic was as ordinary as perhaps a pen, or a mattress to sleep on. This comforted Remus, somewhat. There were a handful of people in the shop, all the height of Remus or thereabouts. Hagrid had chosen to wait outside, given the business and his compromising frame, and Remus felt quite utterly useless.   
He remained close to the back of the shop, watching intently as other people waddled up to the desk to be handed a wand. The first boy had been given a great wand of pine that curled into the shape of a swan at the very end. He had been rather chuffed with this, until a quick flick sent several boxes flying at the girl stood to his right. His first was replaced with a rather stubby ash wand, which- to his obvious dismay- worked perfectly.   
“Are you okay?” a voice said.  
Remus turned to see a girl. She was an inch or two taller than him- that was often the case with girls- and had a gentle smile on her lightly freckled face. She had a certain motherly quality, despite her age, and made him feel quite safe within an instant of meeting her.   
Remus flicked his gaze between her and the desk where another boy was testing out a wand.   
“Not from a wizarding family? Me neither, I have no idea what I’m doing!”  
If the smile hadn’t been reassuring enough, Remus now relaxed his shoulders. The other children had all looked so eager, he was worried he’d look like a fool on his very first day of being a wizard; that’s what it was, wasn’t it?  
“I’m Lily, by the way. Lily Evans. Come on, let’s join the queue together.”

She held out a hand that was just as freckled as her face. Remus was hesitant, but took it. It was soft, unlike his which was laced in scratches. Lily didn’t seem to notice, or notice the fact he did not speak. Remus thought about what his father had said that morning. It was one of those things that someone says that wafts around in your brain, never settling, but never really goes away.   
'You won’t make friends otherwise'. He made a mental note to remind his father about that, one day. 

Perhaps it was too quick to jump to the conclusion that this jovial red-haired girl, Lily, would be a friend, but Remus didn’t exactly have anything to compare it to.   
“Ah,” his train of thought was cut off when a man with wild, wispy hair and skin like creased parchment cleared his throat, “Remus Lupin. I was wondering when I’d get to see you.” 

There had been a little embarrassment when the man had explained to Remus that the cost of his wand had already been taken care of. Remus didn’t exactly have much experience, but he had enough worldly awareness to know how money worked. Lily took no notice, or at least chose not to show it, and followed thereafter with her own wand, handing over a few golden coins that looked like something out of a pirate’s treasure chest.   
Remus left the shop with a Cypress wand with a unicorn hair core. He had very little idea as to what the different cores meant, but holding it gave him a wave of boyish elation that took him back to the days of poking about with a twig from the garden. Lily’s was adorned with flowers. 

“Makin’ friends already are we?” Hagrid asked as the two of them left the shop.  
Remus looked at his feet, but a weak smile appeared on his lips.   
It was then that another pair of feet appeared in his eyeline. They were covered by a pair of well-polished black boots, but not the cool kind Remus had seen on the telly.   
“I was looking for you, Lily, I thought we agreed to meet outside Gringotts at one thirty.”

His voice still had the high pitch of childhood, but it was brash.   
“Sorry, Severus! I was just so excited I had to get my wand before I could begin to think about anything else!”   
“Yeah, well let me know next time.”

Remus looked up to see a boy with head of dead-straight black hair that fell just above his shoulders like a pair of curtains that had been dampened by the rain- though there had been no rain in weeks. He looked at Remus and scowled, furrowing his dark, slug-like brows that almost met at the centre of his face. Remus could feel his shallow brown eyes tracing the scars on his own.   
“Oi, where did you get those scars?”  
Remus ducked his head once more.  
Lily hissed, “Severus, don’t be so rude. You don’t know what other people have been though.”

“Huh, we’re not even twelve yet. Come on Lily, I want to get to Flourish and Blotts before the last of the potions books are gone.”

Lily placed her hand on Remus’ shoulder. It was strange, but pleasant.   
“I’d better go,” she said, “have a good day, Remus. I’ll see you around.”

She had remembered his name.   
********  
By the end of their shopping, Remus had a fair few bags himself. Most of what he had bought was second-hand, but he hadn’t had anything new in so long that it felt like Christmas all over again. The books he was most excited about; and when Hagrid took him for an ice cream at Fortescue’s he couldn’t help but begin to read. Hagrid was rather absorbed in conversation with Fortescue, himself, so more or less left Remus to his own devices.   
It was a strange sort of thrill having a book that you hadn’t yet read. Remus ran his fingers over the cover. The leather was rough and had a healthy crack down the entire spine. The letters on the front read ‘A History of Magic’ in a pale-yellow Remus assumed was once gold. The inside pages had dark blotches here and there, but the words were clear enough.   
By the time he heard Hagrid use his name Remus had noticed that the last two mouthfuls of his ice cream had melted to milk.   
“Fancy you readin’ that on your first go,” Hagrid said, grinning, “most young witches and wizards put off reading that book until the very last minute. Myself included.”  
Remus shrugged. He had been thoroughly engrossed in the story. The knowledge that what he read was real made it even more, well… magical. In the twenty or so pages he had scanned he was barely past 2000BC and chapters away from the first Goblin rebellion- this he was interested in.   
Hagrid pulled a small pocket watch from his coat. Well, it was actually quite a large pocket watch, but it was dwarfed under his large, sausage-like fingers.   
“We’d better be getting ye home me young lad,” he coughed, “your father will only panic. He’s always been a worry wort, Lyall.”  
Remus gently closed the book. If it wasn’t for the pile of other books waiting to be read, he probably would have put up a fight. He hoped that Hogwarts was just like Diagon Alley, with its colour and smells and people in funny clothes. Both Lyall and Hagrid had told him a little more about the place. It was up north, in Scotland, and caught the snow every year. You learnt things like potions and transfiguration- though Remus was unsure as to what that was yet. Hagrid reminisced the glorious feasts at Christmas and Halloween and how his most favourite thing of all was care of magical creatures.  
“Ye won’t be able to take that until ye third year, but make sure you do,” he had said, with a gentle nudge that pushed Remus half way across the street.   
He wondered then whether he would be classed as a magical creature. Would they be learning about him? Would they be using him as an example, like a lab rat? He supposed there wasn’t much use worrying so far in advance. If the boy, Severus, he had seen earlier had taught him anything, it was that his father was correct. Nobody else on that trip had said a work, yet he could feel them hold their gaze for a second too long whenever they greeted him. He had earned a healthy side eye from a young man with long, peroxide hair but chose to ignore that given how silly he looked walking along with a pretentious cane slung over his shoulder. Besides, he much preferred the likes of Lily and the boy by the name of Peter who had accidentally fallen into him while in Flourish and Blotts. If there were any more people like them at Hogwarts, he would be okay.   
When at home Remus didn’t waste much time in conversation with his father. For a boy of only flesh and bone he carried several bags of books up to his room with ease and shut the door firmly behind him. If anything was to keep him company for the next month, it was what was in those bags.   
The only time that Remus was not absorbed in a book was the night of a full moon and the day that followed. It was customary now for him to spend hours in bed, wrapped in bandages and soaked in ointment. They could not afford anything more than a few… a few bottles of what Remus now assumed was a healing potion. It wasn’t overly good- every scratch left a scar- though it took no longer than twelve hours for even the deepest wound to close. This particular night Remus was lucky to come out of the basement with no more than a gash over his left shoulder; easy to cover up, he thought. The Hogwarts uniform he had been given would do a decent job at hiding most of his scars, and the old ones on his hands were easy to blame on a cat. It was only the face. He would have to work that one out later.   
His thoughts were put to rest when Lyall entered the room with a mug of steaming soup. He placed it on the small bedside table and perched himself at the end of the bed in an awkward manner that made it look as if he was ready to leap up at any given moment.   
“It’s plain tomato, as you like it,” he said, “they’ll feed you much better while you’re at Hogwarts. You might get some meat on those bones.”

Remus lent to pick up the mug so that it could warm his hands while he waited for it to cool.   
“What book is it next?” his father asked, looking at the haphazard pile of books at the opposite end of the room.  
Remus pulled ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ from under his pillow. He had left this one until last.   
“Newt Scamander was my hero when I was your age,” Lyall said with a defeated smile, “he was the reason I went into the job I did. The love he had for those creatures… I wish I would have emulated that better. Stress got the best of me it did.”  
Remus searched his face. He was unsure as to whether his father was trying to tell him something new.   
“Anyway, I think it’s best I leave you to rest some more. Get some sleep and enjoy the book.”

Lyall left the room with less than a glance back in Remus’ direction.   
Just one more week, Remus thought, just one more week.


End file.
